


Desperate Measures

by DryCereal



Series: Fatherhood [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, Terrible Twos, parent!phan, phil's sweet tooth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryCereal/pseuds/DryCereal
Summary: Nothing will stand in the way of Phil getting sweet treats "for his daughter"...





	Desperate Measures

It’s been a rough morning so far. It’s sometime after 10am, and they’re both still in their PJs, both stained with an obviously un-appreciated selection of breakfasts, and there’s a mess of dishes dumped in the sink rather than in the dishwasher. Phil’s trying to run a bath, pick out some clothes for them both, and corral an increasingly cranky toddler hell-bent on escape towards the stairs, so he thinks he deserves to let his usual sunny disposition slip ever so slightly.

“Fuck _damnit_! I mean, oh, shhhhhh!, it’s ok!, it’s alright!” he exclaims, bouncing the baby gently on his hip, surveying the now ruined polo shirt he’d been trying to take off the hangar one-handed, and deciding to leave the now-detached button exactly where it landed on the floor. Choking hazards be damned, if he keeps hold of the baby, she can’t grab it and swallow it.

The hasty apology and reassurance doesn’t work, and soon there’s wailing and “real tears.” Phil feels quite like crying himself, if he’s honest. It’s just one too many frustrating events all piled up together, and naptime and the blessed peace and quiet it brings seems so far away.  
  
He nixes any remaining hope of getting to the baby-swim session they’d planned on going to that morning when he picks up his phone to message Dan and sees the current time, hoping instead just that he’ll manage to filter at least _some_ of the frustration currently boiling through his bloodstream out of the message. Dan’s going to be out all day, helping launch a new campaign for Young Minds, and whilst Phil’s as proud of his husband as he always is, right now there’s a large part of him that would happily drag Dan away by his hair so he could have some help. And that in itself makes him feel simultaneously irritated at himself for being so dramatic, and guilty as hell for how easy a solution it suddenly seems.  
  
He quickly abandons the bath plan when the screaming gets both loud and high-pitched enough to be unbearable, instead sitting back on his heels with a sigh, relaxing as a nappy-clad butt wobbles out of view down the hall. He counts to five before he gives chase – it’s long enough for a couple of calming deep breaths, but not long enough for her to get into or onto anything she shouldn’t.  
  
“Right missy-” He says chirpily, scooping her up off the floor just as she crosses the threshold into the gaming room, filled with far too many tempting wires to pull and stick in her mouth; “-let’s go get us a nice snack, and watch some cartoons, hmm?”  
  
She babbles happily all the way up the stairs in his arms, and screeches delightedly when she’s placed on the floor at the top of the stairs, fingers wrapped round Phil’s much larger one as he first secures the stair-gate, then as they totter over towards the kitchen together, pausing to pick up the TV remote, always a prized trophy in their household.  
  
He pauses when they finally turn the corner around the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded of a critical flaw in his “cheer us up” plan.  
  
The lock on the treat cupboard.  
  
The combination lock on the treat cupboard.  
  
The combination for the lock on the treat cupboard that Dan had laughingly refused point blank to tell him when he’d installed it a very long (so it had seemed to Phil) week ago.  
  
After he finishes swearing for the second time that morning, Phil twirls the both of them around, smiling grimly as she giggles, before walking over towards the sofa, where she sits quite happily, alternately waving and mashing buttons on the remote control. He’s got time to fix this, at least. Whilst his daughter is happily distracted, he hurries downstairs and retrieves his phone, sending a quick message to his husband:  
  
  
•           SOS – hope you’re having a good day - i need emergency tantrum-diffusing milkybar buttons – where are they? x

  
He’d be lying if he tried to claim he wasn’t irritated when there’s no reply after five minutes. He flops down onto the sofa, smiling distractedly as he’s immediately babbled at, and sends another message.  
  
  
•           Dan, I NEED in the cupboard. What’s the code? Love you x

  
Ten minutes later, he gives up, dropping his phone onto the sofa with an exasperated huff, before going back to the kitchen, and rattling the cupboard door, just in case it magically opens.  
  
It doesn’t, unsurprisingly enough, but if life was at all fair, Phil reasons, it would’ve. Third swearing incident of the day. This one’s under his breath though, so it doesn’t count. Not really. Just as well, considering how prominently Dan’s name features in the outburst.  
  
He looks around the open-plan room, toying with the idea of just heading down to the shops, before quickly discarding that as the second-worst solution. Outside means clothes, clothes and a bath, and a change of nappy, and… probably no less than three tantrums. Each.  
  
The only thing worse would be having no access to much-needed and wholly-deserved treats the entire day. And that just won’t do.  
  
He’s about to open Amazon on his phone and see if it’s possible to get Prime delivery on snacks, (and congratulating himself on thinking up such a clever scheme) when his eyes land on the door of the store cupboard in the corner of the room. Where they keep all the cleaning stuff, but more importantly, where they stashed all the various tools kindly, but ultimately pointlessly given to them by well-meaning, but overly-hopeful relatives over the years.  
  
He strides across the room, automatically joining in a quick rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle” which has a certain someone cackling gleefully and yelling “di-mun!!!” repeatedly as he swings open the door, grabs the toolbox, and dashes back to the kitchen, opening the lid and upending it onto the counter.  
  
The fourth screwdriver he picks up fits the screws holding the latch in place, and although it’s fiddly, he soon starts removing the first screw, after the realisation he’d actually started trying to tighten it. Soon it falls to the floor and bounces under the counter, but he ignores it for now, focussed on the goal of removing the barrier between him, his daughter and sugary satisfaction.  
  
It’s not long at all before the latch, lock still attached falls to the floor with a soft jangle, and Phil whoops in triumph, grabbing it, picking up the screws where they’ve bounced or rolled on the floor, and dumping the whole lot on the worktop, before wrenching open the door, grabbing a few prizes to reward his success, and heads back to the sofa for a congratulatory episode or three of whatever’s on CBeebies.  
  
By the time Dan arrives home that evening, there’s even a new self-adhesive latch on the cupboard, carefully placed to cover up the screw holes in the woodwork. One of the ones Dan himself bought when they first started baby-proofing the apartment, before realizing they were also “lefty-proof.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything about it. Neither does Phil.  
  
Until the next morning when the practically empty box of cereal is discovered…

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by part of another fic I wrote recently called ["Sticky Fingers"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15210290) which, if you liked this, you should almost definitely go read. #spon :D
> 
> As ever, you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DryCerealThief) or [Tumblr](https://drycerealthief.tumblr.com) \- but if you liked the fic (and I hope you did, it wasn't easy finishing this tonight after being guilt-tripped by my own toddler nemesis at bedtime!) let me know below! I do like me some parent!phan - who doesn't like an excuse for shameless fluff? :D
> 
> I believe this makes it 4/4 on that whole "Week of Fics" challenge - not too shabby for Andi...! :D


End file.
